I Had A Dream

I'm not that dude that wakes up each morning spending 20-20 minutes trying to analyze what I dreamed about the previous night. The dude who sits with his friends and says, "Yo, I had this crazy dream where I got castrated while I was ordering a triple scoop ice-cream cone at the Hagen Daaz on M Street. You think that means, that I need to check my appetitie before it prevents me from having kids?"

I'm not that dude. Most of my dreams are meaningless. I don't think dreams foreshadow anything or give me a look inside my true self, or none of that. I mean, true, Nebuchadnezzar had a dream that changed history. And MLK had a dream that has yet to be realized, but has motivated generations. But my ish isn;t like that.

For instance, I had a dream the other night where I was back home in DC, driving through Rock Creek Park, blaring Arthur Blythe with my windows down and a then Liger raced out the bushes, jumped through the front-passenger window and started mauling me. I woke up suddenly, like in the movies. I never do that, but I did this time. Did that mean anything? Should I stop playing music too loud? Should I stop watching Napoleon Dynamite scenes every night? Do I miss DC? Probably not, it was probably just a meaningless dream, rather than a composite of disparate thoughts that come together like a puzzle to tell me something essential.

But then there are things like last night that caused me to wake up around 5am and laugh at the irony. It was so me. You know how dreams are like sequences of completely, inane, insane madness right?

Well Twist was at the DMV dealing with a curt, rude, attitudnal employee. We started arguing (classic Twist) over something that dealt with her negligence, but it was all tied back to my ridiculous driving record. Then, mysteriously, she handed me her keys and told me that I had to watch over the DMV while she was gone. Little did I know, the DMV also housed a maximum security prison. The inmate were behind bullet-proof glass going wild since they saw that the woman left and gave her supervision to me. All I had to do to keep the inmates in the prison was turn this steering wheel 360 degrees every 30 seconds. But it was like turning a steering wheel without any "power steering", so after about 3 minutes, I said "Eff It" and let the dudes stream out the prison, into the DMV. They started robbing people, tipping the vending machines and doing random things like sword fighting with the keyboards.

Thats when the DMV worker came back and I let her have it...in a real rational way like I was an upset boss:

"How could you go to lunch and hand over the keys without clearly providing a back-up plan! The steering wheel had no power steering fluid and the timer was ticking at a pace much faster than real time! this was totally uncalled for and a clear demonstration that you lack what it takes to for upper management!!"

Then I stormed up some steps to leave the DMV.

When I got outside, it was raining. And all of sudden, I felt my feel soaking a cool puddle. I looked down and I had left my sneakers downstairs in the DMV. Which meant I had to humble myself, go back downstairs and ask for my Chuck Taylors. Of course, once I got down there, everything was back to normal. So I walked up to homegirl and told her to gimme my kicks.

Her reply? (Mom, forgive the language)

"What? Them Buddys? I threw them sh*ts in the dumpster. You too grown to be wearin them tired thangs."

It was classic and so indicative of how I get down. I end up somewhere like DMV to handle my license or Bell South to handle a bill I just chose not pay. I get there and start jumpin bad with people at the first sign of ineptitude, like a total hypocrite. In other situations, people will give me assignments that I choose not to carry out if I think its beneath me, which always ends in chaos, for which I then excoriate the other party, only to have to turn around and humble myself to a party that uses my new state of vulnerability as a chance to especially make me feel like trash.

My life is a sitcom.